


What Comes Around Goes Around

by LadyGrimReaper



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-10 00:08:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGrimReaper/pseuds/LadyGrimReaper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fill for this prompt right <a href="http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/21697.html?thread=125842369#t125842369">Here</a>. Was given free reign of the texts: "Out of milk. -SH" and "Also, I'm not dead. -SH".</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Comes Around Goes Around

Another fill for a kink meme prompt. [Here](http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/21697.html?thread=125842369#t125842369) .

~~

Irene Adler checked her mobile device for the time. 11:30 in the evening. Her client had reminded her of someone she wanted to forget. Of someone who outsmarted her in the end of their battle of wits, cunning, and intelligence. 

She sighed and tied a patent leather raincoat around her form and slid on her sunglasses. She checked the mirror making sure not a single dyed blond hair was out of place and touched up her brilliant red lipstick. 

She exited the building only for a black, shiny SUV to roll up beside her on the curb and slide to a silent stop. 

A text made her mobile vibrate and she glanced at it before looking for ways to escape. A cold feeling of terror had raised the hairs on the back of her neck and goosebumps spread down her arms.

Unknown Number   
Get in 

The door opened and the driver stood by emotionless and patiently.

She got in, carefully keeping her eyes on the driver, no one else was in the car, and had a hand on her mobile.

She had several contingency plans, and back up plans if she was ever found, but something told her that this wasn't a situation upon which she would have to put those plans in place. 

But still, just in case, she would be ready.

Approximately an hour later of traveling through Atlanta, Georgia traffic, and she was led to an abandoned building, graffitti and trash present in excess.

The driver kindly guided her to a door and she pushed it open with a deep breath only to stop in her tracks in the doorway.

"You. . ."

A chair was placed in front of the desk and she dropped herself down into it, stripping off her sunglasses to un-obstruct her view of one Sherlock Holmes. 

Alive.

In his signature expensive suit, and a purple shirt, leaning back against a desk like he owned it.

"Yes me... surprised that you're not the only one to pull this trick?" He rumbled in that dark as sin voice of his.

Irene allowed her head to hang, her chest restricting slightly and she gasped for breath as tears filled her eyes.

"Honestly? Yes! I ..we all thought... Please tell me you've contacted your boyfriend before me?" She allowed her composure to fade and wiped away the tears that started to fall.

Sherlock glanced down at two mobiles, an Iphone and an Android, saying not a word. Of course he knew who she was referring to. He chose not to correct her of her assumption. 

" I...find myself having trouble..."

Irene straightened her spine to ramrod straight, glaring at him.

"You need to tell him you're alive!" The irony wasn't lost on her in the least bit.

She laughs a broken, painful laugh, tossing her phone to the floor and kicking it away from her, least she be tempted to tell John Watson himself.

"That man is in love with you." She begins in a low toned voice. 

Sherlock ducks his head, running his hand through his hair and then picks up his Android. 

He types for a few slow minutes and stops, turning the screen towards her.

"There. Please tell Mycroft to get off his fat arse and solve his own work related cases. I am need of MY blogger. . Is that good enough?"

She stares at him coldly. " You are an absolute git if you send that to him after all these years."

Sherlock stares at her for a moment before tapping his fingers to delete the message. 

Irene laughs dryly, digging into her purse for the small bottle of water, a must have in this Georgian heat.

Sherlock taps another message out, looking away ever so often to stare into the distance and Irene takes the time to observe him.

Same intimidating height, his hair was cut short and dyed red. He had put on more muscle too. 

Sherlock held out his phone and read. 

" Final Copy, 'We're out of milk. -SH' "

He hit send before she could say anything against the text. He typed a quick text again, and hit send again. He dragged his eyes up towards the hallway as if daring it to contain a hiding John Watson who was about to receive his texts.

However, across the Atlantic Ocean, in 221 B Baker Street, John Hamish Watson had opened his mobile, and read We're out of milk. -SH . He dropped the mobile and let out a strangled sound, blood rushing from his head and he felt how pale he must be.

The world titled around him dangerously.

I am going to murder him. 

He faded into unconsciousness with his mobile going off again, another text appeared across the screen, and yet John Watson would not see it until he awakened.

Also, I'm not dead. -SH


End file.
